


The Tamer, The Untamed

by merrymercy



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Assassin Ben Solo, Assassination, Assassination Attempt(s), Assassination Plot(s), Badass Rey (Star Wars), Dark Rey (Star Wars), Dark Reylo, F/M, First Order, Gangs, Justified First Order, Light Side Ben Solo, Mafia Resistance really, Mafia Rey, Mafias, Murder, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, the EXACT opposite of the forces, the resistance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:33:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27762301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merrymercy/pseuds/merrymercy
Summary: Ben is an assassin sent by the First Order to kill a mafia boss, The Resistance's leader. It's supposed to be a simple task- blend in, work your way up to the top, and do what you do best: assassinate. What Ben doesn't know is that the leader is Rey, an infamous and brutal killer, and that he's not the only one who is set out to kill her.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	1. The Prey

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome!!
> 
> This is the au I've wanted to write since forever, and I had enough of toying with the idea in my head. So here you have it: mafia boss Rey and assassin Ben. The dynamics in this ff is completely opposite to the one of the sequels. The First Order is set out to bring down criminals, and The Resistance is *the* crime. Rey is brutal, and Ben is... softer, in comparison. I hope you enjoy it.

Badum. Badum. Badum.

Never in his life had Ben thought he'd have this much pain in his chest. His heart was seizing in panic, shrills of sweat gathering on his temples, begging to run down his chin. He stared up the shiny, pristine clock inside the elevator- it read 6:30. Exhaling, he reached for his black tie and toyed with it, tightening the insufferable fabric tighter around his throat- he needed to get a hold of himself. 

His thought was cut through with the sharp ding of the elevator, and as the agonizingly slow doors opened, he was greeted with two things: the sight of a black lobby, and the piercing smell of lavender and a horrid, sickening, sweet one. The smell of lavenders made the latter _so_ indistinguishable, he was sure it was a cover-up of something. Rust? Dankness of the halls? He didn't know- but, for sure the base of a crime family couldn't smell this _sweet_.

''Kylo Ren?'' He gave an affirmative nod to the guard, one of many who dressed _all_ in black. He couldn't help but smirk despite his anxiousness- he's going to blend in much easier than he thought he would. ''Follow.''

What the mafia wants, the mafia gets. He'd been told this over a _thousand_ times- by Armitage, Phasma, and even the rookies- but every time he heard it, his blood boiled the same. It was no exception this time- begrudgingly following the guard, his temper seemingly worse than it'd been this morning.

He should've drank more coffee.

After a path that that felt like a _maze,_ they finally reached their destination. A polished black marble door stood in front of him, and despite the low light, he managed to see his reflection before he knocked on the door. His black hair was combed out of his face, kept and tamed- but he still looked like a mess, and he hadn't even done anything yet. 

_Keep. It. Together. You're no newbie._

Three loud pangs reverberated from his fist colliding the door. He took in a shaky breath as the doors opened slowly to reveal the room within- there was no turning back now.

Just as he'd imagined, the room was all in black with the exception of lavenders perched on the desk of _The Slicer._ His gaze met Ben's, and he knew this was the best welcome he could get. He didn't give it much thought before inviting himself in. Inside, the sickening smell of lavender was starting to exhaust his senses. It was even thicker in this room than it was anywhere. He forced himself not to gasp for air. 

''Finally we meet, Kylo.'' Slicer's uninterested façade turns into a sly smirk as he motions him to sit on the leather couch in front of him. He complies. ''I was wondering who, uh, could get the attention of the lower ranks this much.'' A beat. For a moment, none of them say anything. It's just low breaths and thick tension in the room. The Slicer was challenging him to break it- to do something anyone, in their right mind, wouldn't. Satisfied, he reaches for the drawer near him, never taking his eyes off Ben's. He lets out a low chuckle. ''They got some... _interesting_ stuff to say about you.''

Ben gulps, his adam's apple bobbing up and down slowly not to draw any attention- but doesn't go unnoticed by The Slicer. Ben eyes the papers he took out, knowing more or less what it read. ''And what would that be?''

He scans Ben from head to toe, then turns his gaze back to the papers in his hand. ''This and that. Though- some say you've killed Han Solo, unassisted. Leader of the _biggest_ mob empire. Is that true?'' 

A low blow. 

He starts to shiver. When had it gotten so cold?

''Positive.''

His gaze lands on him again, and his voice is revoltingly familiar when he voices the question that had no answer. ''Then, Kylo, why'd you do it?'' 

A question he asks himself every night, waking up from the same nightmare every time- his father's broken voice shouting his name, and his eyes that were colored with sadness, pain, and fear. Why? Why did he do it? Was it even worth it? Another guy took his spot the day after. He couldn't change anything. He was supposed to bring the empire crumbling down, he was supposed to bring justice. He could do neither. All he did was lose his father and restful nights with sleep.

''Personal reasons.'' That was a lie. He'd been assigned to bring the empire he was the heir to crumbling down in the name of justice. _Justice_. Was this just? Trying to join another mafia, just to assassinate the guy at the top of it all? Was it worth the lives lost, the blood shedded, the nights gone cold? What lay underneath First Order's obsolete creed? Vengeance? He had no answer.

Another bark of laughter escaped Slicer, sly in all its intentions. ''I bet you did have. Personal reasons.'' He suddenly gets serious- there's no change in his demeanor, relaxed shoulders, and uncaring gaze- but Ben feels it before he sees it. When he looks at him, he doesn't see Slicer anymore- he sees a hunter, preying on him with his sharp, cat-like eyes. ''I hope they don't interfere with ours.''

 _Shit_.

He knew it'd come to this. He tried warning Snoke, how he was already a known figure in the underworld. Yet, he insisted Ben to go. _You're our only hope_ , he'd said. _If there's anyone who can do this, it's you._ While it _was_ true, there was a catch- his father's empire, the one he was supposed to take down in the first place, ended up being a merger with The Resistance, his next goal, and a fucking joke. There was a slight chance of him escaping through the shadows, go unnoticed within the mess of rumors. Now, all hope was lost. He could die right here, right on the leader couch _this second,_ and nobody would do anything about it. But in the hands of the mafia, he knew there were fates worse than death.

He shudders at the thought.

''Ah, Kylo... Kylo Ren.'' Slicer stands up from his chair, circles his table, and rests back on it. ''I don't want you to misunderstand our intentions. Nor do I want to assume yours.'' He pauses for a moment, carefully selecting his words. ''What you did was impressive. How you did it, nobody has an idea.'' He tilts his head to the side, face splitting up with a naughty grin- a hunter poking and prodding his prey. ''But don't flatter yourself. People here have done much worse to their enemies than what you did to Han.'' 

A beat. Ben just stares at him. _The nature of hunters_ , he thinks. His statements gave room to no argument. He was being tested for his patience, his resilience, his temper. Slicer knew this. It was as clear as day to both of them- yet they pretended. Ben pretended he didn't know his next move, the next word that would open up a wound, searching for a weakness. Slicer pretended he was a young fool who wasn't capable of anything. They pretended because neither of them wanted to see the other side of the coin.

''You're dismissed.'' 

What?

'' I'll see you in two days, at the monthly recruitment. The staff will give you directions.''

_What?_

How was he not dead? No, no. There was no way Slicer was letting go of him like this. There was maybe a trap at the exit? Yeah, the guards would tackle down and beat him to death. That's what it is.

Ben, still shellshocked, utters his gratitude and shambles away from the room, out of the halls, and finally, ends up in the elevator he was never supposed to get out of in the first place. He thought he'd be calm when it was over, but no.

He was a _wreck_. There was no way he got out alive from _the_ crime house. He was safe, for now, but he was scared more than ever. He gets out from the gates, inhaling a much-needed fresh air.

Fucking lavenders.


	2. The House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben visits The House.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dkjsjk what am i doing (: probably gonna edit this fic as a whole but lemme post this before I lose confidence :D

It was an annoyingly sunny day.

Coruscant was alive with buzzing sounds of vehicles, small chit-chat of pedestrians, and barking dogs that tried to look intimidating, but failed despite their all six inches. Amidst all this chaos, there was Ben— a six-foot-tall twenty-something guy forced to take the bus because his car broke down less than— he checks his watch— half an hour. He looked like something out of a comic book: he was in a tux, one he had perfectly dry-cleaned yesterday afternoon, and a lady too short and too old to notice him was sitting by his side. He catches the eye of a passenger across him— a meek teen, with huge red glasses perched on her tiny nose, eyes begging a question as to why he was here in the first place. As soon as their gazes meet, she looks elsewhere. The stares were unintentional— just natural. He was angry and ashamed—he was an _assassin_ , for heaven's sake— though he was sure he'd stare at someone dressed as ill-fitting as him for a bus ride himself.

 _So be it_ , he thinks to himself as he leans back and looks out of the window to see the towering buildings ahead. The signature of Coruscant they were— all of them looked magnificent and glorious, but one stood out in particular. At the very center of it all, there stood a building covered all in black, reflective glass, with purple letters at the very top reading HORE. House Of Resistance. An innocent-looking name that withheld so, _so_ much crime. One of his many nightmares. And from today on, his house.

His palms begin to sweat. He was headed right towards the lion's den itself.

\--

The bus ride took didn't take much longer after that— and Ben finds himself wishing that it did, despite the stares and the sense of misery.

After a quick scan, he was hauled right into the crowd where the other soon-to-be recruits stood— and with one glance he immediately knew he didn't fit in. It wasn't his attire, thank heavens, everyone wore signature, plain, boring tuxedos— but that was the rule of thumb for bad guys with formality, was he wrong? The problem was his height. He was quite proud of it at times— he liked the look on people's faces when they were intimidated by his height. But today, he was supposed to _'fit in'_ and _'attract no attention'_.

He stood no fucking chance. 

He knew they were looking at him, hell, he _felt_ people's gaze at his back long before he saw anyone look at him. These recruits were hyper-aware of their surroundings, and Ben certainly didn't go unnoticed. The conversations died down and there were questions in their eyes— _who the hell is that guy?_

Oh boy, he nailed being incognito.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> with that height...

**Author's Note:**

> yeah, who even likes lavenders?
> 
> here's my twitter, come say hi!


End file.
